


Curious As A Human

by ba_rabby



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ba_rabby/pseuds/ba_rabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything’s different after Alchera. The technology, the politics, the people. Shepard struggles in a galaxy where working for a pack of terrorists is the lesser evil. An errand on Noveria gives her the opportunity to rekindle old connections and perhaps find her centre again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The artwork from Mia Inkspot is spot-on and so lovely. I'll provide a link to her master post as soon as I have it. 
> 
> My beta-reader, [Europolarist](http://europolarist.tumblr.com/), was wonderful. She patiently helped me with my concerns including, but not limited to, "does this story make sense?" Any remaining errors are my own. 
> 
> Thank you both for your contributions to my MEBB2016 submission.

Shepard felt a swoop of deja vu as they approached Noveria. She’d shared the view with Joker when they first visited the corporate world while chasing Saren down. It looked like a giant snowball then, and it looked like a giant snowball now.

“This would probably be easier if you were still a Spectre,” Joker said as he flicked some switches by his arm.

Shepard glowered out of the cockpit without comment. She was supposed to be dealing with the Collectors, not running errands.

Joker prattled on. “I’m sure the Council would reinstate your Spectre status if you asked nicely. I mean, you did save their collective asses--” He hesitated, and Shepard could hear the guilt shadowing his tone as he said, “And it wasn’t your fault that you died.”

“I’m cashing a favour. I don't need Spectre status for that.” She also had no desire to go to the Citadel flying Cerberus colours.

The ship-to-port communications crackled as they drew nearer to the planet.

“Patching you through, Shepard,” Joker said.

A voice came across over the intercom, “This is Noveria Control. State your business.”

Shepard straightened. “Noveria Control this is the Normandy, SR-2. I’m scheduled to meet with Administrator Qui’in.”

Shepard hoped they would get turned away when the silence stretched. She was supposed to be going to Illium.

“You’re earlier than expected, Normandy,” Noveria Control replied, sounding reluctant. “But you are on the arrivals list. Welcome to Noveria. How many of your crew will be disembarking?”

Shepard pushed through her shock and said, “Two.”

“Please dock at Port 3.”

“Thank you.”

“Enjoy your stay.”

Joker cut the link. “Well, that was a far warmer welcome than the last time we were here.”

Shepard hummed. She was surprised that Noveria would let a Cerberus vessel in without comment and tried to tamp her unease.

“So… Who’s Administrator Qui’in?” Joker didn’t spin around in his seat, not when he was occupied with their approach, but his voice held a smirk that Shepard wanted to ignore.

“I helped out a turian last time we were here,” she said absently. Her mind was still preoccupied with how easy it was to be admitted into Port Hanshan in the SR-2. It was bizarre. “He’s offered to return the favour.”

“What is it with you and turians?” Joker asked with a shake of his head.

Shepard’s gaze snapped from the white bulk of Noveria and burned a hole in the back of Joker’s baseball-capped head. “Excuse me?”

“Most people can’t stand turians, Alliance especially,” he replied, cheerfully oblivious to her glare. “And here you are recruiting them on missions and doing ‘favours.’”

She ignored the second part of his comment and asked, “You have a problem with Garrus?”

Joker shrugged. “My problems with Garrus have nothing to do with him being turian and everything to do with him having a pole up his butt.”

Shepard grunted and pointedly did not actually answer Joker’s question. She was his superior officer and didn’t have to answer him if she didn’t damn well want to.

“You just keep piloting my ship, fly-boy.”

Joker side-eyed her, and she ignored that too. “Aye aye, Commander.”

**********  
Ever the soldier, Garrus arrived at the airlock exactly on time without his weapons (as requested)... but still in his beat up armour. Before Alchera, Shepard would have made a joke about whether he even owned civvies. But the sight of the scorched chest plate and neck guard throttled her voice.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t been off the ship since they’d hurried him into triage (not that the SR-2 had traveled to hospitable locales since then). It was unlikely that they had managed to grab any spare clothes for him in the hubbub and panic.

Having a moment now that the ship was docked, Joker spun around in his seat as Garrus approached. “Hey, Garrus. How you holding up, big guy?”

Garrus flared his mandibles in a weak smile. The white bandage flexed as he moved his jaw to speak. “As well as can be expected.”

“Well your brains don’t look like they’re falling out, so that’s an improvement,” Joker replied.

Shepard flinched. How dare he? He hadn’t been there. The memory of Garrus sprawled on that filthy floor in a growing puddle of blue made her insides ache.

“Officer Moreau,” EDI’s disembodied voice made Shepard start. “Based on the Commander's expression, that comment might be deemed inappropriate.”

“Having an overgrown calculator piloting my ship is inappropriate,” Joker muttered. But he shifted uneasily when he caught sight of Shepard’s expression.

“Need I remind you that lowering your volume does not prevent me from detecting your remarks, Officer Moreau?”

Garrus interrupted, “It’s fine, uh EDI." He stumbled over calling the AI by name. Everyone did. "I don’t feel like my brain is falling out anymore so Joker’s assessment isn’t too far off.”

The pause before EDI spoke seemed like a hesitation. “I see.”

“Right,” Shepard said, clapping Garrus on the shoulder. His armour was surprisingly warm to the touch. “Now that we’ve completed our obligatory demonstration on Joker’s lack of tact—“

“Hey!”

“I think we should be going now.”

“Have fun,” Joker muttered and turned to face the console.

Shepard and Garrus left Joker to his duties and stepped into the airlock.

As the doors slid shut, EDI’s benign voice chimed in with her protocol. “Equalizing pressure. Commanding Officer is disembarking. XO Lawson has the deck.”

Shepard flicked her wrist to bring up her omni-tool to check the time. She had about fifteen minutes to get through security before Lawson could suit up and join them. With any luck, Port Security would bar her from entering the station.

Once the airlock opened, Shepard walked down the gangway at a rapid clip, her boots clanging on the metal. Garrus matched her speed, but his pacing was different, his legs so much longer than hers.

She had always been a little fascinated by turians. Probably more than was entirely appropriate. Their inhuman gait was no more noticeable than when she and Garrus walked shoulder to shoulder.

She shoved her hands into her jumpsuit’s pockets; her fingers were already feeling the bite of cold. “How are you doing on the ship? The crew treating you all right?”

Garrus’ mandibles twitched into something utterly wry. “They’re polite enough. The crew stays out of my way for the most part. Are you worried because I’m turian on a Cerberus vessel?”

“No,” Shepard frowned. “Yes. I’m checking in with all of the non-Cerberus recruits: Grunt, and Mordin. Jack too. But everyone else has taken hidey-holes in places no one needs to visit often.”

“I was in pretty plain sight on the SR-1,” Garrus replied with a considering frown. His expression smoothed, and he chuckled. “Though I suppose most people avoided going anywhere near the Mako even when we were in flight.”

Shepard gave him a look. “I’m telling you, that thing handled like a drunk cow.”

Garrus smiled. It was the slightly amused, slightly confused smile of an alien who didn’t know what a cow was. He sobered and said earnestly, “I didn’t ask to join you on this mission because the crew is getting to me.”

“I’m not expecting to actually go on a mission. I just wanted the company while I went ashore.” The wind picked up in the dock, and she hunched her shoulders. Garrus didn’t react. Maybe that was why he wore his armour instead of civvies: heating upgrades. The units must be technological marvels to withstand this bullshit weather.

Garrus frowned. “Why are we even here?”

“The Illusive Man woke me up to deal with the Reapers but sends me galavanting across the galaxy as Cerberus’ errand girl. This is the third job in as many weeks.” She flashed him a tight little smile. “But Noveria’s private property. I can’t just waltz in and make demands. I’m mean, of course, I’ll ‘try’, but I’m not banking on getting anywhere. At least before I could claim ‘Council Business’ and even then I got stonewalled left and right.”

“Will he be angry?”

She shrugged, “Probably. But Cerberus can suck it. My job is ‘deal with the Reapers’ not play gopher. I’m just—“

“Stop where you are!”

Both Shepard and Garrus halted, the shock of the shout freezing both of them.

“Captain Matsuo,” Shepard said with a beaming smile as she recognized the head of Port Hanshan’s Security. “How are you?”

“As well as can be expected when a former Spectre arrives at the port,” Matsuo replied. “I am aware that your ship is on the arrivals list, but I will need to check your weapons.”

“Funnily enough, I didn’t bring any.”

Matsuo narrowed her eyes. “I will need to do a thorough search, regardless.“

“Be my guest.” Shepard raised her arms. Garrus hesitated for a moment before he followed her lead.

Matsuo jerked her chin towards them, and her officers, both turian, approached warily before realizing that Shepard wasn’t going to pull a fast one. They frisked her and Garrus down quickly. While Shepard had been frank with Matsuo about the officers she’d killed on her first visit, Captain Ventralis included, she didn’t imagine the rest of the security staff were quite so accepting.

“They’re clean,” one said. He gave Shepard a dirty look.

Garrus growled.

Shepard fought off a smirk when the officer flinched.

Matsuo, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, frowned as though she suspected that Shepard was lying and had a weapon hidden somewhere…intimate.

She and Shepard stared at one another before Matsuo relented. “Welcome to Post Hanshan. Visitor Services can direct you to the Administrator’s office."

“Thank you, Captain.”

Once the guards cleared the way and they started walking forward, Garrus whispered, “Commander?”

“Yes?”

“Cerberus can ‘suck’ what?”

Shepard snorted. She considered giving Garrus a lesson in human sexual relations, just to make him balk like he would have back on the SR-1. That thought was interrupted by the sound of heel tapping quickly along the gangway.

“Shepard!” Lawson called.

Shepard rolled her eyes. Garrus cocked his head in question, she shook her head. Later.

Captain Matsuo, bless her, barred Lawson’s path. She didn’t draw her weapon which was a shame, but she did say, “Ma’am, I’m going to need to see some credentials.”

“I just got off that ship.” Lawson pointed at the Normandy. The ‘are you blind?’ was heavily implied.

“Shepard’s request stated that two parties were disembarking the SR-2,” Matsuo replied.

Lawson glared at Shepard.

Shepard resisted the urge to look heavenward. “Captain Matsuo, I seem to have made an error. Agent Lawson will be accompanying us.”

Matsuo looked back and forth between them before she relented. “All right. But you will have to relinquish your weapons with Port Security.”

“I most certainly will not.”

“Ma’am, we cannot allow every client visiting the port to carry arms.”

Lawson scowled and scowled, but Matsuo seemed well versed in facing down annoyed customers and waited her out serenely.

With a huff, Lawson drew her pistol and offered it to the guards, butt first. The fact that she could probably kill them all with her biotics was likely the only reason she surrendered the weapons in the first place. But one couldn’t confiscate a biotic amp.

“Commander, I am quite positive that I asked to join you for your meeting,” Lawson said once they had sorted things out with Visitor Services and stood in the elevator to the Port Hanshan’s main floor. Shepard found elevator conversations interesting to listen in on, not take part in.

“Yes, and I didn’t think it was necessary,” Shepard replied staring ahead at parade rest. “Whatever happened to ‘we didn’t bring you back to second-guess you’?”

“First of all, it was Jacob who said that, not I. And secondly, I won’t second-guess you in the field.”

Lawson had. On numerous occasions. Shepard kept her mouth shut.

“But I will take the lead in negotiations that relate directly to Cerberus’ success,” she said primly. “I don’t think you have our best interests at heart.”

“No, I don’t. But I’ve been pretty clear about that since the start.”

“And why does Officer Vakarian need to come to a Cerberus meeting?” Lawson added. Shepard glanced over her shoulder at Lawson. While Lawson wasn’t giving Garrus the stink eye, (she wasn’t stupid after all), she looked at him with suspicion.

Shepard shrugged. “Qui’in asked about him. I thought it might help.”

Garrus made a surprised little chirrup.

That was only partially true. Shepard wanted a chance to talk to Garrus away from listening walls of the Normandy. Dr. Solus had pulled over a dozen bugs from his lab alone, and while Garrus was a brilliant technologist, Shepard didn’t know whether he’d gotten all the bugs out of the Main Battery. Some nooks and crannies weren't safe to go in without a spotter.

When the doors of the elevator opened, Shepard noticed that Port Hanshan was as bustling and busy as ever. Turians, asari, elcor, salarian shuffled past through the main level of the port. It was certainly a jump up from Omega. She noted that the decor was different. The water features had been replaced with dense gardens of glossy, dark-green plants with broad leaves and yellow sandy soil at their bases. It was utterly incongruent with the stark-white landscape outside. She wondered if turians had a thing against water features.

When they arrived at the Administrator’s office, the receptionist, a surprisingly young-looking human, stared up at them expectantly.

“I'm Commander Shepard, here to see Administrator Qui’in.”

The receptionist peered around her. “And your companions are?”

“This is Garrus Vakarian, an acquaintance of the Administrator and this is Agent Lawson.”

The receptionist didn’t give Garrus more than a passing glance, but she gave Lawson a once over, no doubt catching sight of the Cerberus insignia emblazoned on her catsuit. Because nothing says “proud to be a terrorist” like an insignia on your breasts. Shepard had taken a sewing kit to her clothing and removed all traces of the Cerberus-orange embroidery. It probably seemed petty, but the fact that she was alive was a walking endorsement; the logo was a bit of overkill.

The receptionist nodded. “I’ll alert the Administrator to your presence, but he is currently in a meeting. Might I suggest waiting in the hotel bar in the meantime? I can send you a message on your omni to let you know when he is free.”

“That’s quite alright,” Lawson said. “We can wait here.”

**********

Several omni-tool fixated hours later, and the huffy departure of a trio of salarians, the Administrator was finally free to see them. Lorik Qui’in rose from his seat when they entered his office. It was a far warmer welcome than they had received from Anoleis.

“Shepard! A pleasure to see you,” The Administrator said as he extended a hand.

Shepard took it, and they shook. It was a surprisingly human thing to do. Turians didn’t seem fond of physical contact, and hand-shaking was probably slightly inappropriate if Garrus’ suppressed cough was anything to go by. Qui’in extended the same courtesy to Lawson, so it was probably nothing more than the Administrator’s fascination with human culture.

He nodded at Garrus, mandibles loose and flared. There was something warm and pleased sounding in his subtones when he rumbled a greeting. It gave Shepard a frisson of pleasure, like how a purring cat could usually make her happy.

“Please, have a seat,” Qui'in said. “Now, while I did say to let me know if you needed anything, I hadn’t expected it to be so soon. I do hope that you don’t plan to upset the apple cart too much.”

“No, not too much.” Shepard leaned back in her seat and smiled at his turn of phrase. “I’m surprised you even knew I was alive. I haven’t even spoken to the Council yet.”

“You are an ally worth keeping tabs on,” Qui'in replied. “Considering that your actions directly precipitated my rise to, shall we say, power.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” Garrus said, pointedly looking around.

“Your new office is nicer than that bar.”

One of Qui'in's mandibles flared briefly. “Thank you. I am rather surprised by your attire, though. No armour, Shepard? And Captain Matsuo reported that you’re not armed. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your edge.” He flicked another smile, but his gaze was intense in a way that turians never seemed to shake when they were serious. Not even when they were trying to be jovial.

Shepard shrugged. “You’d be surprised what bone, muscle, and skin weave can protect you from.”

Qui'in's gaze flitted to Lawson and back. Shepard didn’t need to look to know that her ‘chaperone’ was bristling with impatience.

“What is it you need, Shepard?” Qui'in asked.

“Access to Peak 9.”

“That is all?”

“Yup.”

He typed at his terminal. “Might I ask why you need to go to those labs?”

“Probably to shoot people. I didn’t actually read the memo.”

Garrus coughed, though it sounded like he was smothering a laugh.

Qui'in stopped typing. “Do you expect me to grant you clearance after that answer?”

“Not really.”

Qui'in looked from Shepard to Lawson and back again. “I understand that you are working with Cerberus and not with the Council.”

Shepard’s lips compressed. “That is correct.”

“You understand that granting access to a sensitive research facility to a former Spectre who is now in the employ of what is widely viewed as a terrorist organization will not enamour me to the board…” He trailed off as he focused his attention on the terminal.

Lawson surprisingly didn’t say anything, and that made the warning bells in Shepard’s head go off again.

When he was done reading, the Administrator steepled his fingers and gave Lawson a curious look. “It seems that Peak 9 houses one of Exo Geni’s labs whose principal shareholder is, in fact, Cerberus.”

“What?” Shepard gawped.

Garrus stiffened in surprise beside her.

“While processing and paperwork, the usual channels, can delay things, I cannot deny a stockholder access to their projects,” Qui'in said slowly. “It’s against board policy.”

“You don’t think that receiving funds from human-centred xenophobic terrorists is playing with fire?” Shepard asked when she’d recovered.

He paused. His expression was that of one savouring something expensive. “I do particularly love that idiom. ‘Playing with fire,’” he parroted before he focused again. “I am at the whim of the board who is at the whim of sufficient credits.”

Shepard dared a glance in Lawson’s direction. ‘Smug’ would not have been adequate to describe her expression.

“I will need to discuss this with the board, but I assure you that I will get back to you within the hour. It is not an unreasonable request, though I would rather you did not shoot the research staff.”

“Right.”

He looked at Shepard for a beat before saying, “May I have a word with you, Commander?”

“Actually, Administrator,” Lawson said as she rose to her feet. “We have other business to attend to. The wait has already eaten into our day. Please let us know when the board has approved our check-in.”

She glanced at Shepard, and being sufficiently thrown off balance, Shepard rose obligingly to follow Lawson out. At least Garrus had her six.

**********

Shepard’s armour plates clattered as the SR-2 released the landing shuttle over the Aleuts Valley. She hadn’t been joking about the muscle and bone enhancement. Her armour, heavy-weighted and packed with upgrades in any slot that would hold it, felt as light as a jumpsuit. The only difference was a slight limitation in her range of motion where the plates and joints interfered with one another. Cerberus flowed through her veins, it was woven into her skin. It made her feel strange to bear the N7 insignia on her breastplate. Like the two shouldn’t be near one another lest they cataclysmically cancel one another out, like matter and antimatter.

Garrus was peering out of his window, his mandibles and faceplates were tight. The cold was going to be a bitch for him, but at least something would be like old times. Shepard was almost looking forward to his complaints about species-specific temperature preferences. Lawson was on her omni-tool.

Shepard had to yell over the din of the shuttle's cabin, “Why are we doing this little check in, exactly? You couldn’t just send an email.”

Lawson tapped a few commands in her omni before shutting it down. “The Illusive Man received a distress signal a few days ago. I had hoped that your connections with Qui’in would speed the process up. And aside from the few hours we wasted waited, we should be able to assess the situation, resolve it and get back to our main mission in less than twenty-four hours.”

“You couldn’t have called Port Security?” Garrus asked.

Lawson gave him an icy look, “No one batted an eye when Benezia was granted immediate access to Peak 14 during the Saren Crisis.”

“They had resurrected the rachni and were being swarmed by the angry bugs,” Garrus replied.

“The queen of which Shepard released,” Lawson replied.

“Not the point,” Shepard snapped. At the time, it had all been so clear, but she still worried about that decision. She said, “Benezia went there to get information from the queen. She didn’t give a good goddamn about the staff.”

Lawson looked out the window.

Shepard’s ears popped as they descended.

“Is this a rescue mission or a data-recovery mission?” Garrus asked. Of course, he was able to voice Shepard’s concerns with a sniper’s accuracy.

“Officer, this is a Cerberus mission. The purpose and implications are not your concern.”

Shepard’s brows rose at the spite in Lawson’s voice. “He is involved in the mission. I think he’s entitled to know what the hell we’re doing here.”

“No, he’s not,” Lawson said. “I would have preferred bringing Jacob, but you insisted we bring Office Vakarian along.”

The shuttle shuddered as it slowed. The ground loomed large in the side windows.

Shepard flashed Garrus an apologetic look. He returned her expression with one of confusion. She was too tired to fight Lawson on every little thing.

“You got schematics or what?” Shepard asked, just wanting to get this over and done with.

“I’ve already sent them to your omni-tool.”

The shuttle wobbled and thudded as it dropped the last foot or so to the ground. Shepard clapped on her helmet and waited for the other two to do the same before she leapt from the shuttle that was perched on an outcropping of rock.

Garrus’s sound of disgust came loud and clear through the comm channel.

Shepard stifled a chuckle. “I did warn you about the cold, Vakarian.”

“It’s not the cold, Shepard.” He slogged forward. His weight sunk him deeper into the snow than Shepard and Lawson. “Turians aren’t quite suited to deal with terrain like this.”

She hadn’t thought of that. Peak 14 had been mostly bare rock and hard glacier under foot. Sinking hadn't been a problem before. Shepard cast around. “Let’s see if we can get some stable footing.”

“Officer Vakarian, I have on more than one occasion offered to requisition a new suit of armour,” Lawson said testily as Shepard helped Garrus navigate through the snow.

“And as I recall, I declined each of those offers with a very polite ‘no, thank you,'” Garrus replied as he huffed and panted.

Lawson sighed in a burst of static and stalked off, leaving Shepard alone to help Garrus. Shepard made a mental note to ask Solus to modify her comm system to create private links. Lawson insisted on tagging along on missions and sometimes Shepard just wanted to work with someone who didn’t think of her as property. She could never quite shake Lawson's off-hand comment about wanting to put a control chip in Shepard's brain as Cerberus worked to bring her back to life. She was disconcerted by both the thought itself and the casual way it was delivered.

It didn’t take long for them to find stable ground. Garrus’ armour, while more protective and with the added benefits of heaters, was better suited to urban environments. They reached the edge of the research facility, and after Garrus had hacked the locking mechanism, the trio had to take cover rather quickly.

Noveria was perfect for getting in touch with Lorik Qui’in, who Shepard found genuinely amusing and pleasant to be around. But its lax rules regarding research ethics were tiresome. The Peak 9 welcoming party consisted of a delightful assortment of murderous mechs.

“What the hell is wrong with them?” Shepard yelled at Lawson as they took cover behind a crate.

“The scientists didn’t say in the distress signal. They’ve likely gone rogue,” Lawson replied.

“They’re VIs, how do they go rogue?” Shepard leaned out of their cover, took aim and fired three shotgun blasts in succession. She had maybe one more shot before she had to pop her heat sink.

Garrus had taken a high position and was picking off any of the mechs that got into his line of sight. Single shots thundered through the facility. “VIs can’t go rogue, Shepard,” Garrus said through the comm channel.

Shepard took another few shots and processed this. “Seriously? AIs? What do you people think the Reapers are? You think they came out of nowhere?”

“You don’t complain about EDI,” Lawson commented before she grunted with exertion and biotically tossed some of the mechs into the air for Garrus and Shepard to pick off.

“EDI hasn’t gone rogue and tried to kill the crew yet. When she does, I’ll take a hammer to her hardware myself.”

After that, there wasn’t much talking. Just the rhythmic boom boom boom of her shotgun, the strange whir of biotics and the comforting bang from Garrus perched somewhere overhead.

The mechs seemed to become more desperate as they pushed through the facility and Shepard felt a strange pang of guilt. The mechs might be artificial intelligences, but they didn’t want to die any more than she did. But, she reasoned, they had started killing people and even animals got put down when they did that sort of thing.

After the AI mechs had been eliminated and Peak 9's VIs brought back online, Shepard logged on to one of the terminals and began skimming data.

“What are you doing?” Lawson asked when Shepard’s omni-tool chimed as it downloaded a file.

“Catching up on my reading.”

“That’s not your information,” Lawson replied sternly.

Shepard arched a brow behind her helmet and ignored her. What was she, twelve?

“All clear, Commander,” Garrus said through the comms.

“Thanks, Garrus,” Shepard replied.

“We should get going,” Lawson said. “The researchers can begin clean-up.”

“Hold on a minute. I’m picking up a strange signal, Shepard,” Garrus said.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Lawson said as she adjusted her helmet.

Shepard narrowed her eyes. “Can you pinpoint the source of the signal?” she asked Garrus.

There was a long pause. “Yeah. Sending the location your way.”

“I don’t think it’s worth investigating, Commander.”

“Then don’t,” Shepard snapped. “Go back to the shuttle and wait for us if it’s so beneath you. Shit.” To Garrus, she said, “I’ll meet you there, Vakarian.”

Lawson followed anyway.

Shepard met up with Garrus at the scientist’s barracks. The scientists had gathered together when shit hit the fan. Safety in numbers wasn’t always the best approach, but she was hard-pressed to convince social species otherwise.

Garrus was tapping at a terminal. His helmet was still on, and he was typing too quickly to be anything but alarmed.

“Vakarian?” Shepard said as she approached. She was about to remove her helmet. But he shook his head.

“I don’t want these people to start panicking,” he said through the comms. “But there’s a killswitch in the facility. It’s been activated.”  
“What kind of killswitch?” Shepard asked flatly.

“The lab will release a neurotoxin into the ventilation system. It’s on a timer.”  
Shepard turned to Lawson, who stood unmoved.

“Turn it off.” Shepard’s fingers curled into fists.

This was too much like Peak 15. Too much like when Captain Ventralis started slaughtering the scientists on Benezia’s orders. They’d been idiots for resurrecting the rachni, and these people were idiots for doing what they had been doing here, but that didn’t mean she could just let them die.

“Shepard, we cannot leave loose ends. I’m sure you know—"

“I said turn. It. Off.”

“You were cursing these people a few moments ago, I’m surprised you’re fighting me on this.”

Shepard tried to rein herself in. But she was tired and irritable, and Lawson needed a punch in the face. They were helmeted so Shepard did the next best thing and slammed Lawson bodily against the wall. “Turn it off or I’m cracking your helmet, and we all stay here.”

“Unhand me.”

Shepard shook her instead.

Cerberus enhancements and N7 training combined meant that she dropped Lawson the instant she saw cyan sparks. Shepard couldn’t put enough distance between them before Lawson lashed out with a biotic Push. The scientists in the room screamed and scurried for cover. Shepard reached for her pistol as she fell.

Before her ass hit the ground, there was a crack of rifle fire.

Silence.

“I don’t miss twice, Agent Lawson,” Garrus said.

Lawson’s biotic field subsided but Shepard could see the indignation in every tense line of her body. She walked stiffly to the terminal and typed in a rapid string of text. The alert message on Shepard’s omni-tool subsided.

Garrus reached down and helped Shepard get to her feet.

“Thanks,” Shepard said as she holstered her pistol.

“I’ve always got your six, Shep.”

“If I take this off, am I going to die?” Shepard said, with her hands braced against her helmet.

“I wouldn’t waste The Illusive Man’s investment,” Lawson said.

Shepard removed her helmet and spoke to the cowering scientists, who were, of course, all human. “All right, folks. It looks like your horrible science experiment has been exterminated. Let that be a lesson to you. It probably won’t be, but you should let it be a lesson. We’re heading back to Port Hanshan. I suggest you get the first shuttle back to the port. Your bosses don’t seem to take failure well.”

**********

Once back in the shuttle, Lawson ripped off her helmet and said coldly, “Do not attack me again, Shepard.”

“Well, I know you won’t damage Cerberus property so that threat’s ringing pretty hollow from where I’m sitting.” Shepard pulled off her helmet and caught the full smell of sweat and metal in the shuttle's recycled air.

“You didn’t have a problem with me activating the failsafe at the Lazarus Station.”

Shepard shot an embarrassed glance at Garrus who appeared disinterested, but she knew him too well to fall for that. He was still a cop at heart, and that meant he was nosy as hell.

“I was a touch disoriented after being woken from the dead," Shepard snapped. "I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders.”

“You had no trouble dispatching your attackers,” Lawson said with a flick of her hair.

Shepard felt another flash of irritation at the woman. Why hadn’t they grown her damn hair back? “I was on autopilot,” she replied. “Someone tries to kill me, I try to kill them right back.”

Garrus huffed a laugh.

It was one of Garrus’ favourite lines from a vid series she’d shown him on the SR-1. He’d been curious about pre-space humanity’s attitudes about space travel. It was an odd cultural exchange. She’d watched some old turian vids. Even with subtitles, they were weird.

“And you thought it was necessary to attack me to save the lives of scientists who were conducting illegal research?” Lawson asked, cutting through Shepard’s reverie like a toothache.

“We’re on Noveria. It is hardly an issue of legality and more of fucking stupidity.”

“Regardless, your behaviour was out of line.”

“My behaviour is completely in line. Did you even read psych profile before you decided to poke around inside of me and bring me back from the dead?”

Lawson’s lips thinned and she shook her head. “Your petulance is tiresome.”

“Excuse me for feeling a little violated that you reanimated my charred corpse without so much as a 'by your leave.' What was it Jacob said?” Shepard smiled nastily. ‘Tubes and meat’?”

Shepard could see Garrus' head swivel around to stare at them, but she ignored him.

Lawson had the good grace to grimace at Jacob’s description. Maybe she wasn’t an entirely heartless bitch. “You were not in the best condition when we received you, and Jacob has had a debriefing about—“

“Received?” Shepard cut in. Not ‘recovered’, ‘received’. “Received from whom?” she asked lightly.

Lawson stared out of the shuttle window. After a drawn-out moment she said, she said, “We are looking out for humanity’s interests, surely you can appreciate that.” Lawson’s glanced at Garrus, and she amended, “We are actually addressing the Reaper threat. What can you say of your precious Council?”

Shepard crossed her arms. “I’ll play along because the Reapers will threaten everyone, but humans can’t pretend we’re the only kids in the sandbox anymore. ‘Humanity first’ is the cry of a toddler who hasn’t learned to share.” She thought about Corporal Tombs and shook her head. “And really, are your interests about ‘humanity’? I know the road to hell is paved with good intentions and all that but does it also have to be lined with bodies too?”

Lawson shook her head, sighed and looked out of the window.

**********

Shepard couldn’t get out of the shuttle fast enough when they docked in the Normandy’s shuttle bay. It seemed Garrus was of the same mind. Mercifully, Lawson detoured to the armoury, and it gave Garrus and Shepard a moment alone in the elevator. Alone with EDI and probably a dozen bugs.

Once the doors closed, Garrus shook his head and chuckled mirthlessly. “You were so upset when I got my face scratched up. Then I hear Jacob's description, and it all seems kind of funny when you put it in perspective.”

“You nearly died,” Shepard replied. It wasn’t funny in the slightest.

“You did die.”

She didn’t have an answer to that.

Why were all the elevators in the galaxy so slow? They could travel through space, could get from one side of the galaxy to the other in a matter of a day or two, yet there had to be a less socially awkward method of getting between decks.

“It’s strange,” he continued. “Hearing about what happened.”

She turned, and he was looking at her. His eyes roving over her face like he was committing her to memory. Her gaze was drawn to the white bandage along his jaw and the fucked up part of his face. She wondered, not for the first time, how things would have turned out if she’d gotten to him sooner rather than talking to Solus first or even getting Grunt and Jack. If she hadn't been reluctant to bring on some other turian because the dossier was written as if to say 'one turian is the same as another and Shepard likes turians, right?'

“I mean, we knew what happened. Joker told us. Ashley—“ He faltered. Garrus hadn’t been on Horizon; he had still been under Chakwas’ observation. But he’d obviously talked to Jack.

He coughed and pressed on, “Ashley told us what happened. But dying in a blaze of glory sounds a little less glamorous when you describe a hero's body as ‘tubes and meat’. I can’t believe he said that to you.” His expression was no longer cynically amused but pained rage. He was pissed off, and Shepard couldn’t deal with Garrus’ anger. Not on her behalf.

“Aw, hell, Garrus. You worried about my feelings?” She tried to sound teasing, but even to her ears it sounded like a reprimand.

His mandibles pulled tight to his face.

The elevator chimed as they reached the Third Deck and Shepard with nowhere to retreat to said in dismissal, “Get some rest, Vakarian, we’re leaving for Illium tomorrow.”

Garrus frowned, but he didn’t say anything else as he left the elevator.

 

Shepard stood under her shower for a long time and examined her scars. The first day after she’d woken up she had prodded into one of the glowing orange tracks, unable to stop herself. She didn’t do it again, not even after they closed into keloid scars. On the bright side, at least her face had cleared up entirely. There were no scars there.  
  
On a hunch, Shepard called to EDI once she was done in the head.

“Yes, Commander,” EDI said.

“I have a question regarding Cerberus fail-safe protocols. Can you answer that question?” Shepard tossed her towel on the bed and rummaged in a drawer for some undies.

EDI hesitated. “That information may be accessible.”

“Good enough. If a particular project has gone awry, how likely will the fail-safe kill all of the researchers involved if a deactivation is attempted.”

“I cannot provide that information.”

“Of course not,” Shepard muttered.

Shepard struggled with a jumpsuit and was glad that EDI didn't have feelings to laugh at her tired fumbling. He AI didn’t quite seem to get humour yet. Or maybe the her humour was very deadpan and at everyone’s expense, Shepard couldn’t decide.

EDI’s voice startled Shepard making her nearly fall over. “Perhaps, if I had the particular protocol code for the failsafe, I can cross-reference to answer your question in a more satisfactory manner.”

EDI sounded like she genuinely wanted to help. But VIs were designed to be helpful. And although EDI was an AI, that didn’t mean she wanted to help. She was just programmed to seem like she did. It was a bit of a circular argument.

“Alright,” Shepard said before she pulled up the information on her omni-tool and rattled off a string of numbers and letters.

“One moment, please.”

Shepard hefted the bin of armour onto the coffee table and got out her cleaning supplies. She shouldn’t have showered first. Cleaning armour was dirty work.

“It seems that the protocol you’ve encountered cannot be deactivated. It can be placed on a time delay, but once activated there is nothing to be done but evacuate.”

Shepard froze a bottle of armour polish in one hand, brush in the other. “How long are we talking?”

“Thirty to sixty minutes.”

Shepard felt sick. She managed to put the bottle down rather than drop it, but it was a near thing.


	2. Chapter 2

Shepard stormed out of the SR-2 airlock and into Noveria's frigid air. Her ire kept her warm. God knows she hasn't dressed appropriately. Shepard's breath came out in painful puffs of fog and twice she nearly lost her balance on the iced-over walkway. The guards didn’t comment when she approached, merely nodded and let her through. That calmed her. Either they hadn’t seen her near-tumbles, or they were too used to seeing visitors fall on their asses to find it funny anymore.

Shepard didn’t know where she was going to go. She just wanted to get off the damned ship. Away from lethal failsafes and Cerberus and Lawson and even Garrus with their strange new awkwardness.

Back in the old days, she would find someone to spend the night with and burn off her frustration. If she were lucky. But the inhabitants of Port Hanshan had all but fled from her the last time she’d been there. Now they trickled past without a backwards glance. She wasn’t that Spectre anymore, not someone the Managers ‘warned them about’. She was just another stockholder’s hired muscle. Luck was not, it seemed, on her side.

She sighed, found a seat in the plaza and pulled out one of her datapads. EDI, for all her inability to explain her nature, was a remarkable search engine. Shepard’s choice in reading material was probably beamed directly to The Illusive Man himself, but weapons specs were hardly worth batting an eye.  She was an N7 after all.

Shepard had expected to be left alone, and she was for some time. She stiffened when a shadow lingered. Her glare could have boiled water.  

“Good Evening, Shepard,” Lorik Qui’in said with a smirk.

“Administrator.” Shepard rose abruptly to her feet.

“Please. There’s no need for that,” he said.

She swayed, torn between sitting back down and standing. She decided to stay on her feet; there was nothing more awkward than sitting while someone talked over you.

“I was just about to go home for the night. I must say I was surprised to see you here.” Qui'in said. “And alone no less. Whenever we meet, you always have an entourage trailing behind you.”

“I just needed some time away from the ship.”

He nodded in understanding. “Since you’re off-duty, might I invite you for a cocktail?”

“Uh.”

“Or not,” he said easily. “I merely thought I should buy that drink I owe you.”

“You’ve repaid your favour already,” Shepard replied confused.

“No, I responded to a stakeholder’s request more quickly than usual. That was hardly a favour to you personally.”

The nighttime chatter and patter of business folk filled the space between them.

Lorik’s mandibles flicked minutely, and he said, “Of course you are more than welcome to continue your reading, I merely thought…”

“No. I mean, yes. Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Sure, let’s get a drink. What the hell.” She flashed a smile. “I’m assuming you mean a bar or something.”

“I was heading to my usual watering hole.”

Shepard chuckled. What was with him and human expressions? She shoved the datapad into her pack and slung it over her shoulder.

“Lead on.” She gestured ahead.

They’d gotten less than ten paces before she noticed that they had a tail. Her heart trip-hammered.

She leaned closer to the Administrator, her mind already dredging up faint memories of Port Hanshan’s layout. Trying to remember where the guards stood and where the exits were. 

“Sir. I think you’re being followed.”

Qui'in frowned and looked over his shoulder. Shepard was just about the hiss at him not to do that when he raised a three-fingered hand to give a subtle wave.

“Cnatius is under my employ, Shepard. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Shepard looked back at the turian following them. He wasn’t wearing an ERCS uniform. In fact, he wasn’t wearing visible armour at all. He stared at Shepard flatly. In the plaza's bright light, his eyes glinted. 

Lorik’s voice drew her attention. “My take-over was not viewed favourably by everyone at the station. One mustn't be too careful.”

They took the stairs to the mezzanine. Shepard was grateful. She didn’t want to share an elevator with a bodyguard.

Shepard scowled as she and Qui'in walked shoulder to shoulder up the narrow stairwell. 

She never used to be like this. If she had been forced to share an elevator with the bodyguard before Alchera, she would have tried to chat with him. She would have teased Cnatius or flirted with him, anything to make him crack the somber facade that bodyguards the galaxy over seemed to be afflicted with. He wouldn’t have cracked, but the client would have gotten a laugh. Someone had once told her that she was, ‘actually kinda charming in the right light.’ Now, she was… She didn’t know what she was.

The hotel bar was in the same place as before though the seating arrangement had changed. Lorik lead her to a secluded booth. 

She took in the corporate patrons as she settled the pack between her feet. “I’m surprised that this is still your watering hole.”

"Why is that?"

She shrugged. “You being Administrator and all. Thought you’d go for somewhere a bit more swanky.”

Qui'in chuckled, and Shepard could admit to herself, in the dark privacy of her head, that she really liked the resonant sound of his multi-toned voice. 

“I am a— what was that expression? Ah. A ’creature of habit’.” He smiled proudly, and Shepard was so endeared by the old turian that she couldn’t help but smile back. “Also, the bartender makes excellent turian cocktails.”

“A good bartender _is_ hard to come by.”

“Indeed.”

The barkeep in question approached with a tall, thin ceramic tumbler. It clicked delicately as he placed it on the table. 

“Thank you,” Qui'in said with smile.

“You’re most welcome, Administrator,” the salarian replied. “And for you, ma’am?”

“What do you have on tap?”

He listed the options.  She ordered the most familiar sounding beer and hoped for the best. The bartender nodded and sashayed off.

“Really, Shepard? I invited you for cocktails, and you order the most basic of beverages?” Lorik said, his tone was teasing, but Shepard still felt an old embarrassment flare up.

“I don’t like sugary drinks,” she mumbled while fiddling with one of the napkins.

“A cocktail need not be sweet.”

Shepard flicked him a smile but couldn’t shake off that discomfort. She had never been interested in fancy drinks. When she was younger and developing her pallte, she had neither the taste for them and, more often than not, never had the money. Even now she would be happy with a vodka and water if it weren’t such a clear class marker.

Once the bartender returned with her drink and left, Qui'in switched the conversation. “You seemed rather engrossed in your reading. Was it a novel of questionable content?”

Shepard snorted, nearly choking on her beer. Lorik took a drink of his cocktail, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Dirty old man,” she muttered. Her face felt hot and not just because the beer was prickling down the back of her throat. She coughed.

“While I might be your _elder_ , ‘incorrigible’ should suffice.”

He winked, and Shepard’s eyes widened and she rifled through her pack. She pulled out a handful of datapads both as evidence to the contrary and ward against his odd behaviour. He shuffled through the stack noisily. 

Apart from Joker, few people made jokes with her. As far as Cerberus Operatives were concerned Shepard was either: held on a pedestal and viewed with god-like awe or viewed as a highly expensive non-disposable asset. To the recruits she was just "Boss"; the one signing their paycheques.  Both Jack and Grunt had been ‘indisposed’ during the Saren Mission, and she didn't know them well enough to comment on anything other than their fighting ability. Garrus was another problem altogether.

“I was doing some light reading,” Shepard said, not wanting to think about Garrus.

Qui'in's brow plates rose as he read the title aloud, “Non-standard upgrades for the Lieberschaft 2180: A cost-benefit analysis.” He dragged a finger over the screen to scroll through the article. “This constitutes as light reading?”

Shepard shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ sort of way.

“I’ve never heard of the Lieberschaft model.”

“It’s more commonly known as the M-22 Eviscerator.”

“Ah." After a considerable pause, he said, “I’ve heard of _that_ one. Isn’t it illegal in Council Space?”

“I didn’t say I owned one. I was just curious about it.”

Jack was partial to this particular shotgun and Shepard wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Apparently the ‘fuss’ was disembowelment. 

Sensing her mood, he said, “We are not in Council Space, Commander. You are in fact on an entire planet that’s economy is based off of being outside of Council Jurisdiction and therefore outside of Council Law.”

Shepard took a deep draught of her drink to avoid addressing that thought. She avoided it along with the thought of AI mechs and scientists who might be dead because Cerberus doesn’t take failure lightly. 

Now that she no longer had alcohol draining from her sinuses, she savoured the beer.  It was surprisingly simple and surprisingly good. She downed some more.

They worked through their drinks in silence as the Administrator skimmed through her datapads. Turians didn’t sip; they lacked the lips to do so. Lorik braced the glass against his bottom teeth and tossed some of the liquid into his mouth and shut his jaws.

Apart from Garrus, Shepard had never been so close to a turian for so long.  Lorik Qui'in was handsome, in a turian sort of way. All curves and predatory sharpness. The arc of his fringe, the stark contrast between his plates and paint, the flash of his teeth when he opened his mouth to drink or speak. It came together into an aesthetic that suited her tastes: dangerous and well-designed.

“You are looking to either refresh your memory or update yourself on modern technologies,” Qui'in said with finality after he’d finished with the data pads.

Shepard leaned back, both impressed and wary.

Her expression probably held more wariness than pleasure because Qui'in said, “I told you, I keep up to date on my allies. Whether or not the rumours of your death were accurate, you did disappear for two years. I imagine that leaves a lot to catch up on.”

Shepard huffed and drained the last of her beer.

“You always were too clever for your own good, Administrator.” She waved to get the attention of the barkeep.

“Please, call me Lorik. And while my carelessness instigated our past dealings, I assure you that I have learned my lesson regarding discretion.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “But please, assuage my curiosity, what did happen to you?”

“Nothing you haven’t heard.” Shepard stared into her empty glass. “I died.”

Without missing a beat, Lorik said, “And now you’re in Cerberus’ employ. Which is strange considering your campaign against them during the Saren Crisis.”

Shepard gave him a sharp look.

He leaned back in his seat, away from her glare. “I kept tabs.”

“I don’t know why my relatively minor actions have earned your attention. Jesus, I just grabbed some data from your office,” Shepard said, suddenly bad-tempered. It was so nice to have yet another person spying on her.

After the silence between them had time to balloon and deflate he said, “If Anoleis had succeeded in acquiring my evidence he would have thrown me into the Aleuts Valley and made my death look like an accident. And I would have died, Shepard. Turians don’t do well in the cold.” Lorik inspected the tumbler. “At the risk of sounding melodramatic, your actions saved my life."

Shepard never knew what to say in response to the 'you saved my life' spiel. So she was grateful that the bartender chose this moment to bring her and Lorik's new drinks.

He continued, "I kept up on your actions simply out of a desire to have the opportunity to return the favour. And…” He looked away and seemed almost bashful. “You intrigued me, Shepard.”

She’d heard that one before too. “So now that you’ve extranet stalked me, we’re friends?”

He reared, taken aback. “I’m not so presumptuous as to suggest that. I don’t imagine the Great Commander Shepard, Saviour of the Citadel, is in need of ‘friends.’”

“You’d be surprised,” Shepard muttered and immediately regretted it. She hadn’t talked to anyone about that particular problem. Oh, she had Yeoman Chambers to talk to, it was why Lawson had recruited the psychiatrist after all. But Shepard didn’t quite trust the girl yet. She didn't trust any of them. Except for Garrus.

“Please continue.” Lorik was looking at her as intently as he had in his office.

Shepard looked around. The bar was subdued. It wasn’t late at night, but it was late to still be at the Port. She hadn’t thought about it before, but people must go home somewhere. It seemed like those populating the bar were the kind of people who often worked after business hours. Salarians for the most part. Turians. Her gaze landed on the body-guard a few tables over. God, he must be so bored, she thought. 

When she finally accepted that Lorik was going to wait her out, she said, “Most of the people who worked with me during the Saren Mission either died over Alchera or have moved on.”

“Vakarian was with you today,” Lorik pointed out.

Shepard hummed.

He stared at her and said, “Would you like a bit of advice from an old turian?”

“You gonna give it to me regardless of what I say?”

“Of course not.”

“No, thank you,” she said fully expecting to be overruled. People always insisted about advice; like you’d die without it. Shepard knew of a lot of things she’d die without. Unsolicited advice was not one of them.

Lorik nodded and launched into a discussion about the M-9 line of submachine guns from Elanus Risk Control. She listened with half an ear. Her mind reeling.

“Am I boring you, Commander?” Lorik asked after Shepard hadn’t replied for some time. “You didn’t give me your advice.”

“You didn’t give me your advice.” 

Lorik frowned. “You said you didn’t want to hear it.”

“I know.” She hesitated and tried to parse her thoughts. Finally, she said, “I’ve exerted more agency while having a drink with you than I have in the last three months on the SR-2.” She chuckled because she had to laugh at that realization. It was either ‘laugh’ or ‘start breaking things’.

 “Tell me.”

 "No,” Shepard said and got a thrum of excitement, like a child first learning the word.

 Lorik cocked his head at her. He smiled.

 “Would you like another drink?”

 Shepard did a self-check. She was buzzed. She didn’t need to go further than that. “No.”

 “You should pay for your drink.”

 “Aw, hell no.” She laughed. “You promised me a drink.”

 Lorik smiled so wide she could see his teeth where his mandibles were supposed to lay.

 He asked her a few more questions. Inane things that really didn’t matter, but Shepard said no to each one and her eyes burned with the relief of being able to resist something. Even if it was stupid. Even if it didn’t matter. She didn’t feel press-ganged into fighting more horrors. Geth and husks and abominations and Collectors who knew her name and promised pain.

“Come up to my apartment,” Lorik said. And it must have been a Freudian slip because his expression collapsed like a dying star as soon as he’d said it. He began to stammer an apology but Shepard said…

“Sure.”

“Pardon?”

 She looked at him expectantly, calling his bluff.

Without another word, Lorik waved over the bartender. The Administrator paid with a wave of his omnitool and rose to his feet.

Shepard’s smirk evaporated.

“Unless you were joking…” he began.

Oh shit, he was serious. Behind him, the bodyguard rose to his feet. Her eyes tracked the movement. She couldn’t help it.

“Cnatius is dismissed once I arrive at my apartment,” Lorik said.

Shepard eyed Lorik up and down. He was older than her, true. But he didn’t look that much different Garrus who she knew was about her age. Maybe turians didn’t age visibly. She lurched to her feet.

“I’m not joking,” she said as she fished her backpack out from under the table and stood.

She had been joking before, but now.... Well when was she going to get another chance to satisfy her curiosity? Whatever they ended up doing, it couldn’t be any worse than plummeting like a comet. Besides if they didn’t ‘fit’ together she could knock it off as a once in a (second) lifetime experience that no one needs to find out about.

 

********

True to Lorik’s word, his bodyguard disappeared once the apartment’s lock chimed open. The penthouse was nice, far fancier than any barracks. And the low-income housing she’d grew up in back on Earth was nothing to brag about. Shepard didn’t give a shit about Cerberus stuff, but she felt uneasy being in someone else’s living space. She didn’t know where to stand or how to interact with anything. She was terrified of shattering something valuable.

Shepard’s stomach fluttered, and she cast around for a place to put her bag. Lorik looked completely at ease, the bastard.

“I can take that for you,” Lorik said. He took her pack and, along with his coat, hung it by the door.

“May I get you a drink?” he asked.

“No thank you,” Shepard replied.

Lorik nodded.

Shepard didn’t know how to play this. Any other drunken tumble usually started off by vigorous groping before the door had opened. But she wasn’t drunk and Lorik wasn’t human (and probably too classy for that nonsense). God, what had she gotten herself into this time, she thought as they stared at one another.

Lorik stepped away from the door giving her a clearer path. “You are free to leave if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I don’t want to,” Shepard said. She meant it. She wanted to see this through. It’s just that her xenopsychology courses hadn’t covered this sort of interaction.

“You seem ill at ease,” Lorik pointed out. He looked concerned.

“I’ve just never done this--” She gestured between them.  “Before.”

“Neither have I.”

“Oh.” That surprised her. Shepard rubbed the back of her head. 

Lorik stepped towards her and stroked her arm with a single, gloved finger. “You are a resourceful, quick-thinking soldier, and I am too clever for my own good. I am quite certain we can come to a mutually beneficial experience.”

“Okay.” Shepard laughed and rolled her shoulders.

Lorik smiled and ran his thumb along her jaw and to the corner of her mouth. “Come to my bed, Shepard.”

She turned her head until his gloved thumb-pad was against her lips. She kissed it and smiled.

 

*******

Lorik Qui’in’s bedroom was a large chamber with wall to ceiling windows that showed nothing but the dark of Noveria’s night. Maybe the view was impressive during the day. There were two doors and a pile of pillows lay in one corner of the space. Lorik took her by the hand and lead her to the cushions.

Lorik ungloved and Shepard got her first glimpse at his claws. She remembered Saren’s talons, the vicious black curve of them. Saren had scoured a deep gouge in her armour when they finally caught up to him on Virmire.

Lorik’s claws were also glossy black. Shepard eyed him warily as he slowly brought a hand to her face. When she didn’t deter him, he touched her temple with his velvety fingertips and stroked her. Shepard shut her eyes and sighed as he massaged her scalp. Shepard’s hair had grown a little since she woke up on Lawson’s slab. Now it was slightly longer than a buzz cut.

Lorik cleared his throat.

Shepard opened her eyes slowly. “I guess I should make this less one-sided, huh?”

“Not exactly what I was asking,” Lorik said but the rest of his sentence was lost in a shudder as Shepard traced her fingers over Lorik’s fringe. The blades were warmer than she expected with a texture like leather, though far stiffer.

“You were saying?” Shepard asked, pleased with herself for eliciting a reaction.

She could hear Lorik’s mandibles click when they moved. Kind of like how, if you’re close enough, you could hear the soft pop of someone’s mouth opening just before they speak.

“May I…?” he whispered.

“May you what?”

He glanced down and back at her face.

Shepard frowned, pulled out of the hazy pleasure of gentle touching. “I don’t know what you want.”

His mandibles flicked. “Perhaps, this might be easier if you just tell me when you don’t like something?”

“All right,” Shepard replied warily.

“Thank you,” he said and lowered his head down, down until she realized that he was going for her throat. She flinched, all she could think was about those teeth. But his face came to rest against the crook of her neck. She felt his hot breath across her throat as he nuzzled into the underside of her jaw.

“Are you sniffing me?” Shepard blurted.  

Lorik froze. “Do you dislike it?”

It didn’t feel bad. The warmth of his plates was pleasant. It was the thought of someone sniffing her that was strange. But telling someone that their species’ sexual practices were weird was a boner-killer. Open mind, she was supposed to come at this with an open mind. 

Lorik began to pull away.

“No, it’s alright. It’s just, uh, different,” she said as she grabbed the back of his head.

The turian gave a full-bodied shudder, and he pressed his nose into the side of her neck.

“Like that, do you?”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close until they were chest to chest. Shepard could feel his rumblings of pleasure vibrate through her torso.  Lorik’s tongue flicked against her neck; a gentle trace that made her sigh. 

Lorik pulled away with a purr. 

“Will you turn around, please?” 

She obliged him. There was the rustle of fabric and Lorik pressed himself against her back, embraced her and resumed nosing at her neck. His bare arm was corded with muscle. The skin was as dark as his faceplates, nearly black, and there were little plates dotted along it his forearm. They were no bigger than her thumbnail. He unbuttoned her jumpsuit and started to peel it off, all the while nuzzling and huffing against her neck and shoulder.

 

Lorik kept making these pleased, hungry sounds and Shepard couldn’t help herself.  “You sound like I’m good enough to eat,” she said, smiling.

“Oh but you are,” he purred. “Though perhaps not in the way you mean.” 

Shepard’s breathing became heavier.

“Would you like that Shepard?” He licked the shell of her ear with a tongue far drier than a human's. 

“Maybe.”

Lorik chuckled. He rolled the jumpsuit down to her hips and stroked her stomach. His fingers tracked the raised scars delicately.

“I’m more than capable of keeping track of my teeth,” he said.

Shepard hummed and at his prompting raised her arms for him to pull off her sports-bra. His plated chest was rough and feverishly hot against her back. There was a hard spot that protruded her spine when he rested his chin on her shoulder and peered down.

He was careful. Far more careful than some human men were with their groping and grabbing. The turian’s touch was almost reverent as he stroked Shepard’s flat chest. 

She didn’t have any illusions about her endowment. She was athletic. She was a soldier. She didn’t store fat well. That meant her tits that sat firmly at the front of the alphabet in bra sizing.

“I always wondered what they felt like," he said softly as he palmed her breast.

“Were they all you’d hoped for and more?” Shepard asked in jest. She hoped he was too preoccupied to see the way she bit her lip.  She might have previously considered interspecies… ‘liaisons’ but she’d never seen a turian woman before. Did they even have boobs?

“They are soft,” Lorik replied.  

Shepard relaxed in relief.

He pulled away and said, “Please have a seat.”

Shepard turned and sat heavily on the pillow pile. “Is this your bed?”

“Yes.” Lorik looked as though he was about to conduct a hostile takeover as he crouched between her spread knees.

“It doesn’t seem like much,” she said. She gasped when he curled his tongue around one of her nipples. He actually wrapped his tongue around to squeeze the hardening tip.

Lorik pulled back and stroked the nub with a fingertip. “It does the job.”

He bent back down to continue his attentions. He built up a rhythm, and Shepard noticed that his tongue was getting wetter. It left trails of moisture that cooled quickly.  With a free hand, he stroked her belly. His fingers moving down between her hips and pressing against her crotch. Shepard jerked at his firm touch.

“I changed my mind,” Shepard said.

Lorik made a querying noise but didn’t stop licking and stroking her.

“I want you to eat me out.”

When he glanced up at her he looked so pleased with himself that Shepard rolled her eyes.

“Smug bastard,” she said as she shoved him off playfully.

He gave her a parting lick and gave her space to shimmy out of her jumpsuit and panties.

 “You’re way too overdressed,” Shepard pointed out when she realized that Lorik was still wearing pants.

 He didn’t look at her as he undid the straps and toggles and shed the garment.

 Shepard sprawled in the cushions. It was surprisingly comfortable for being so unsupportive. She splayed her legs unselfconsciously. She was too amped up to play coy. Lorik settled between her thighs and she immediately reached for him wherever she could, the strange hide of his arm, knobbly with little plates. Her breathing was laboured.

 Lorik cocked his head. “You have hair here."

 “What?”

 “Your genitals. They have hair.”

Shepard’s libido veered into a bone-shattering halt that would have put the Mako to shame. Fuck. She was all for having novel second-life experiences, but not when even aliens were going to give her a hard time. Shepard sat up.

Lorik spoke quickly, “I only ask because none of the women in the vids—“ He faltered. His gaze was still drawn to between her thighs, and he had a palm on her knee. It wasn’t any force, not really. It was just an effort to stay her movement.

“What vids?” she asked warily.

 Lorik’s mandibles flicked once, twice. “Erotic vids,” he said flatly. But his subvocals made a weird whine.

Shepard frowned. “There’s human-turian porn?”

There was a long, shifty silence.

“None that appeals to me,” he said carefully.

At Shepard’s confused expression he added, “The narrative context is one of military conquest. Which does not usually apply to other turian... erotica.”

 “None of your skin flicks have to do with war? You kidding me?”

 “Not when one of the parties is _captive_ ,” Lorik said. He suddenly seemed very fascinated in his bedding.

“Oh,” Shepard said once that sunk in a little. Ew, gross.

“It is not my preference,” Lorik added quickly. “The only vids I have enjoyed are the human ones.”

At least that explained the stellar boob-play. 

“The women in the vids do not have hair over their labia.”

God, that clinical talk was downshifting her excitement. "It grows there on anyone who’s not a child. Does it bother you? Cause I can go.”

“What? No. I was merely commenting.” He sounded surprised. “Is it a taboo topic?”

She eyed him for a moment. “It can be a sticking point," she said primly.  

“I see,” he said as he ran his fingers through her hair. His touch tickled. 

Shepard sighed gustily but lay back down on the pillows. “We gonna do this or what?”

“I’ve upset you.” 

“It’s fine.”

“It is not. I did not mean to offend. I find human hair rather fascinating.”

 Shepard spread her legs a little wider in wordless invitation.

 Lorik lay between her thighs again and pulled her open gently. Shepard squirmed but didn’t say anything. She was willing to sate his curiosity if it meant she got some action. He probably only ever saw cosmetically altered junk if he was only getting his human anatomy from porn vids.

He leaned close and traced his nose along her seam. Shepard squirmed again. The neck sniffing thing was all right. But crotch sniffing was—

Lorik rumbled something subvocal. He sounded ravenous. His lick was a shock of pleasure. He did it again. It was all slick and slow and so damn good. She took in a great lungful of air, and after a slow exhale she looked down.

He was watching her; his eyes were the laser focus of a predator. He really did look like he wanted to eat her. It was frightening and oddly validating.

Shepard’s jaw dropped in an open-mouthed groan as his tongue rolled along the folds of cunt and pushed in. Not very far. Just fluttering the edges. Shepard groped down, felt smooth unplated skin beneath Lorik’s fringe, and dragged him closer.

He pressed harder. She relished the tentative thrust of his tongue before angling her hips away.

“Could you? My clit,” she whispered hoarsely.  

 Lorik pulled back. Shepard kept a hand against the back of his skull. His mouth plates were wet. “Where?”

“The thing at the top,” Shepard replied.  She didn’t let go of his head. She didn’t want him to go away. “The little bump … thing.”

He touched her with his thumb, right at the spot where she needed him. “There?”

“Yeah.” She nodded frantically.

He leaned down and flicked, flicked, flicked his tongue on her nub.

Shepard had thought of sex with a turian. (Now that she was doing it, she would admit it.) But even in those shameful fantasies she never thought it could be so good. Because, dear god, turians were excellent at following directions.

 _“Not so hard. Yes, that’s perfect.”_  
_“Mmm, a little to the left.”_  
_“Faster.”_  
_“That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”_

Her orgasm started slowly. She barely recognized the sensation at first, wondering if she was having heart palpitations or if some Cerberus tech inside of her was on the fritz.

Apparently being dead for two years will make you forget what sex feels like. She’d been too paranoid and stressed to masturbate, but…

 

********

An embarrassing amount of noise later, Shepard lay panting and staring up at the ceiling. It was tiled with a geometric mosaic all in earth tones. Lorik kneeled beside her. When she rolled her head in his direction, she caught him watching her expectantly. Right, reciprocity or something. She clumsily reached a hand to his crotch where his erection stood out, shiny and… blue.

Lorik held her wrist as she reached for him. “Did you enjoy that?”

“You have to ask?” 

“Yes.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles. He didn’t guide her to his cock. 

“Uh. Yeah. It was good.” Shepard frowned in confusion. 

Lorik’s shoulders and mandibles relaxed, and Shepard realized that she had no idea how turians emoted during sex. Maybe the noise was off-putting. Maybe she hadn't made the right kinds of noises.

“Yes. It was really good,” she said sitting up on her elbows; she wanted to be very clear on that fact.  “Really, really good. Thank you.”  
“It was my pleasure, Shepard.” Lorik settled beside her. “May I continue touching you?”

Shepard waved a hand at her body in a general ‘have-at-it’ motion and flopped back. If the way he went down was any indication, Shepard doubted Lorik could do anything she didn’t like. She was too blissed out to care anyway.

He took her hand again and held it close to his face. He stroked her the lines of her palm and examined her thumb joints. He ran his fingers over her nails. He worked up her arms, prodding and seeming to test the give of her skin and muscle.

Shepard watched him through hooded eyes. His erection looked like it was getting wetter and darker. Not as dark as, say Vakarian’s face paint. And why she was thinking of Garrus while she was fucking was beyond her. Anyway, not a navy, but darkening to a variation of powder blue. She’d seen Vakarian with half his brains hanging out; she knew first hand that turians bled blue. Ugh, that was not a sexy thought.

To alleviate her internal conflict, Shepard said, “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you had a human fetish.”

Lorik’s hands stilled. He didn’t look at her when he said, “Would it bother you if I did?”

That brought her up short. She’d only been joking, though the fact that he watched human porn should have been a clue. Also: pot, kettle. “Uh. No. I guess. I mean, you seem to know what you’re doing with …”. She glanced down meaningfully.

Lorik’s mandibles pulled in tight and flared in a smile. “That sort of behaviour is common among turians. It’s surprisingly similar. It’s the softness I can’t get enough of.”

Now that she’d come down from her post-orgasmic high she was feeling generous. Shepard reached out to his cock. It scorchingly hot. Her palm slipped up and down him easily. Lorik stopped playing with her breasts to stare as Shepard stroked him. His mandibles hung slack. Shepard drummed her fingers on him.

He laughed. “You have quite a lot of fingers.”

“I’ve only got five.”

“That’s two more than I.”

“Fair enough,” Shepard replied amiably as she jacked him off. 

Lorik left off of his exploration of Shepard’s body and lay down beside her. She took him in both hands and continued stroking him. He watched with the rapt attention of someone committing an experience to memory.

Shepard, on the other hand, was nearing that point in the proceedings where she had to decide whether or not she wanted to suck him off. The self-lubricating was handy, but she didn’t know what it would taste like and she didn’t want to lick him, find it gross and feel awkward about making him feel like shit. Lorik seemed happy to let her fondle him, the novelty of ten fingers was apparently enough to keep him hard.

Making an executive decision, Shepard straddled his thighs and said, “So, can I go for a ride on this thing or what?” She twisted her grip on his slick cock and he groaned.

“If you want to, yes please,” Lorik said. His voice was tight and beneath that there was a rumbling purr of a sound. Shepard felt it in her palms as she braced against his chest to line herself up.

Lorik’s cock was a little bigger than she was used to, but turians were bigger than humans anyway. It made sense. He was pointed at the tip. It made things easier as she lowered herself onto him. Lorik ran his hands up and down her waist, but didn’t move to speed things up. Shepard was grateful for that because it fucking hurt. Apparently being reconstructed from ‘tubes and meat’ meant that all of her got reconstructed. She felt an ugly flare of indignation at _that_ invasion.

“Is everything all right?” Lorik asked.

Shepard rolled her shoulders, releasing the tension “It’s been a while, is all.”

Lorik frowned and brought his knees up.

“Thanks.”

Shepard relaxed against his thighs and sank down. His slick was certainly helping things along. Small mercies. She considered stopping and maybe suggesting that they do something else, but the thought of using her spanking new Cerberus (TM) vagina to ride a turian was so deeply satisfying that she found the will to continue.

Finally, their hips came together. She felt full and a little uncomfortable. She opened her eyes to find Lorik staring at her, his mandibles fluttering in unease.

“What?”

“You’re in pain.” His mandibles twitched again, and he looked as though he was trying to get away. Like he thought she might bite.

Shepard waved him off. “It’s fine.” She shifted her hips experimenting with the fit and winced.

“I don’t believe it’s ‘fine’ at all,” Lorik replied. His sub-vocals buzzed beneath his speech, the way Garrus did when he was worried, 

Shepard huffed a sigh. But she could feel him softening inside of her. So this was apparently going to be a thing.

When she spoke next, she tried to be less flippant. “It’s just been a while. Takes some getting used to, is all. Give me a minute to relax into it and I’ll be good.” She patted him on the chest.

Lorik eyed her skeptically but nodded.

She reached for one of his hands. “Could you do that thing you were doing with my boobs, please?”

He hesitated, but couldn’t seem to defy a direct request. He stroked the underside of her breasts. His touch was barely there and it was a soothing counterpoint to the fullness she was feeling.

“I’m surprised you haven’t scratched me,” Shepard commented idly.

Lorik harrumphed. Actually made a 'harrumph' noise.

Shepard laughed. “What?”

“You think I am incapable of keeping track of my claws?” He sounded disgusted. About as mad as when she suggested that he hand his evidence over to that Internal Affairs officer.

“Not you in particular,” Shepard replied. Trying to figure out how to salvage the situation. It was already awkward that she was just sitting on his dick. Of course she had to go and offend his honour or something.  

“I wouldn’t be able to keep track of my nails if they were two inches long.” She gave him a self-deprecating smirk, and that seemed to do the trick. 

He relaxed. “I suppose if you’re not born with them, you wouldn’t know how to be aware of them.”

Shepard hummed. “Can I see your hand?”

Lorik held it out to her obligingly. Shepard brought her fingers to his claw and hesitantly touched the tip, expecting it to be razor sharp. It wasn’t. 

“Huh.”

“What?” Lorik seemed content to fondle her breast with his free hand. His earlier concerns about whether or not she was enjoying herself gone as he watched her aureola tighten.

“It’s not sharp.”

“And you touched it expecting it to be?”

“I was curious.”

“Humans are always curious.”

“And you’re not?”

“Not what?”

“Curious about things?” She gestured to where they were joined. “Curious about this?”

Lorik didn't reply but from the angle of his mandibles she could tell he was fighting a smile.

Shepard shifted her hips. Oh, that felt nice. “Admit it, Lorik Qui’in, you’re as curious as a human.” She rolled her hips, ground her clit against his plates, slick with their joined fluids.

“I will do no such thing,” he said.

“I bet I can make you.”

Lorik hummed and watched her breasts as she got a rhythm going.

He didn’t make any sound with his speaking voice. But the thrumming in his chest was near constant now, like a deep rumbling she could feel in her bones. She could hear it, but it felt like something lower than she should be able to hear. Like how all of the whines and clicks and buzzes she’d been hearing from Garrus since she woke up at the seemed like they should be out of her hearing range. She wondered what other upgrades Lawson had given her when they rebuilt her.

Shepard couldn’t help herself. “Is it good?”

Lorik blinked, surprised. “It is wonderful,” he said. He sounded awed, and the rumble in his chest roared.

Shepard’s energy began to flag. A human man would have...finished already.

She laughed, embarrassed. “I’m gonna need you to meet me halfway, here.”

He frowned.

“Could you just, thrust or something…”

Lorik nodded. ‘Or something’ apparently meant holding the bulk of her weight and matching her pace. The angle was perfect. The slide of his cock was perfect. That pleased, ecstatic rumble was perfect. Shepard felt like she was on fire. She didn’t think she’d come again, but she hadn’t felt so good in a long long time. Even before all of everything happened. It had been too long since she’d knocked boots with anyone.

Lorik was calling her name. It drew Shepard out of her pleasured haze.

He called her again, “Shepard?”

She gulped down air, trying to get enough of her breath to reply. Before she could, he flipped them onto their sides and pulled out. Shepard was about to ask what was wrong but Lorik’s rumbling grew louder still, his mandibles quivered loosely and he cupped one of his big hands beneath the head of his cock and spilled into it. He didn’t take his eyes off Shepard, as he came and he didn’t make a sound with his speaking voice.

Lorik rose from the bed and disappearing into a door. There was the sound of water running.

“Uh,” Shepard said softly, blindsided by his sudden departure. Was she supposed to leave now?

He came back with a cloth and bowl.

“I usually have a basin and cloth prepared, but I was not expecting company. Forgive me.” He set the bowl on the side table.

“Oh. Ok,” Shepard said relaxing slightly as he knee-walked onto the bed. She cracked a mighty yawn.

“Are you bored, Commander?” Lorik asked playfully. 

“No. I’m tired. I just had a full day of fighting through some fucked up shit and I’m pretty sure you wore me out, old man.”

“So you’re too tired to continue?”

Shepard looked pointedly at Lorik’s softening cock. Not only was it getting softer but it was retreating into his plates. Curiouser and curiouser.

“You’re ready to go again?” she asked instead of pointing out what is cock was doing. If he wasn’t bothered it was probably normal.

“If you would like.”

“Maybe not that for now,” Shepard hedged. She could feel some oncoming soreness.

Lorik took the cloth from her. “May I make a request of you instead?”

“You can ask. No promises.”

He flared a mandible at her in a half-smile. “There is something I’ve seen in vids. I’ve always wanted to see it in person.”

“Oh?” 

“Yes.” He fidgeted some more, his mandibles fluttering. “Would you…could you bring yourself to orgasm while I watch. Please?”

“Lorik, do you have a thing for human hands?” Shepard asked as she trailed her fingers down her torso loving the way his gaze tracked the movement.

“You have so many fingers,” he repeated.

Shepard hummed and gave him a show. She wasn’t too tired for that.


	3. Chapter 3

Shepard woke in the dark feeling muzzy and sore. Someone was speaking. Their voice was two-toned and irritated. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to sit up.

Whatever she was lying on was soft and yielding, and she couldn’t get purchase. Her heartbeat thundered in her ribcage before she was able to calm down enough to take a deep breath. She pushed her face away from the offending bedding and took in her surroundings. A bedside table with a bowl of water. A floor to ceiling window that showed nothing but darkness.

A turian’s voice. Turian. Lorik.

He sounded like he was trying to rein in his displeasure. He wasn't trying very hard. “Gentlemen, while I agree that this issue must be resolved sooner rather than later, I don’t understand why it cannot wait until morning at Port Hanshan. I need not remind you of the time.”

He made an irritated clicking sound. “No, I am not shirking my responsibilities, but I am entitled to off-duty time. I’ve just completed a 14-hour workday.”

Shepard flopped back onto her stomach, deciding to luxuriate in the cushions and peered through the doorway. Lorik sat at a desk in the adjoining office; the terminal cast an orange glow on his dark features. He laced his fingers as he listened. His body was tense and not in a good way. 

“I will review the information in the morning. _Hanshan’s_ morning.”

His mandibles twitched in the intervening silence.

“Good night, gentlemen,” he said in a tone that suggested that he did not wish them that at all.

The Administrator ended the call with a jab at the terminal before taking a deep inhale. The exhale hissed through his teeth. He rose and returned to the bedroom. 

When he noticed Shepard was awake, he offered her a tight smile. “My apologies. Trying to explain to a salarian that I do not function effectively on less than six hours of sleep is an exercise in futility.”

Shepard rolled onto her back. “Well salarians don’t last long, they probably feel they need to optimize every living moment.”

Lorik’s mandibles flared and snapped back to his face like he was fighting a smile.

“Was that xenophobic?”

“It could be construed as such.”

“Whoops,” she said disingenuously.

He settled next to her on the bed and ran a palm up and down her ribs. She looked at his hips. His crotch was smooth and sexless, armoured like the rest of him. She reached out to touch, but stopped herself and glanced up.

Wordlessly, he shifted his leg out of the way to give her better access. She stroked his warm plates. In the dim light, she could make out a faint seam. She felt the joint too, a slightly slick crack beneath her thumb.

When Lorik finally spoke, his tone was cool, “I did ask you not to kill the researchers when I gave you access to Peak 9.”

Shepard didn't reply. She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. Her thoughts were spinning in circles. 

“You can imagine the board’s displeasure upon finding that the research team was dead,” Lorik continued. “Cerberus may be a majority stakeholder, but they are not ExoGeni’s only ones.”

“That wasn’t my fault."

Lorik gave her a withering look. Shifting blame was just about the worst thing you could do in the eyes of a turian.

Shepard looked away from him and tried again. “I didn’t know that the failsafe would activate after we left. I told Lawson to shut it off, she did something on the terminal and I thought that was the end of it.”

“You didn’t think to check?” His tone was still icy.

“The timer stopped counting down.” She ran a hand over her hair. “Look, I’m no technician. Vakarian said…” she stopped. She knew that would sound like she was blaming him too. “I didn’t know.” She hunched over and pulled her knees to her chin. “I thought I stopped it.”

“Tell me exactly what happened.” His tone broached no argument.

She told him. 

Shepard was a soldier. You marched yourself into an early, unmarked grave if you got squeamish when someone was shooting at you. But those scientists hadn’t fought back. They couldn’t have. She never liked killing the unarmed. Or being complicit. 

The Administrator of Port Hanshan was silent for some time afterwards. “Why are you working with Cerberus, Shepard?”

She sighed. “Collectors are taking humans from colonies. The Reapers—“ at Lorik’s expression she said, “The ship that attacked the Citadel, it wasn’t under Saren’s control, it was an AI. There are more of them and they’re coming. The colonists and the Reapers are linked and no one is doing a damn thing about either of them apart from Cerberus.”

“Why not go to The Council?”

Shepard hesitated for a long time before she spoke. “The Council received my recommendations prior to the Alchera Incident and they’ve done jack shit. From what I gather they have swept the Reaper attack under the rug.” She shook her head. “The fact that everyone calls it the attack the ‘Saren Crisis’ is telling. The Council is touting the whole thing as an isolated incident, rather than an oncoming shitstorm.”

“And the missing human colonists?”

She gave him a flat look. “The Council doesn’t give a damn about humans; you know that as well as I do. They’ll just say that we should have been more careful where we set up colonies.”

"How does this trip to Noveria assist with that goal of protecting colonists?"

Shepard looked away. She snapped, "Look they point, I shoot. If I do as I'm told, I save lives."

Lorik said, “You saved the Councillors' lives. Surely that could--”

Shepard stiffened. “I took and oath to uphold the will of the Council. That does not mean hanging them out the dry when they’re calling for help. But that is not a two-way street.”

Lorik blinked, processing this. He said, “I’m not criticizing your decision to aid the Destiny Ascension.”

“That’ll be a first.” She’d spent weeks in hearings about her actions on the Citadel. The Alliance had dropped the allegations of misconduct. Eventually.

“Humanity has a Councillor. Surely you can—”

“I can’t talk to Anderson,” Shepard said nipping that line of thought off at the bud.

“Why not?”

“I work for Cerberus.”

He looked at her for a long time. “You’re trapped in a tautology, Commander: You work for Cerberus because they’re the only ones addressing a problem against humanity. But because you work for Cerberus you cannot speak to your human representative. Since you cannot get aid from your Councillor, you have to continue working with Cerberus and round and round it goes.”

“That’s about the short of it,” Shepard said relieved that she did not have to get into the actual reason she didn’t want to talk to Anderson. Remembering Ashley’s words on Horizon still made Shepard's eyes burn. All she had now was Garrus.

Lorik touched her arm gently. “I strongly advise your to speak with your representative. You were friends once from what I heard." 

Shepard opened her mouth to protest. 

Lorik spoke over her, "I understand. Your long-term aim is to save lives not through expanding an empire but by defending those on the fringes. Cerberus seems the only vehicle. In a manner of speaking, that's a very turian attitude: self-sacrifice for the common good.”  

Shepard arched a brow. "Self-sacrifice?"

"I doubt you're faring well under Cerberus control, Commander. Your values do not align. They are a means to an end. But I fear that they view you in the same manner."

Shepard looked away, unable to face another reminder of her predicament.

“You want me to leave?”

“No.”

Shepard nodded gratefully. She didn’t want to go back to the ship feeling this raw.  

“I will tell the Board what you told me,” Lorik said as they lay curled around one another. “It’s not as though the other corporations don’t have failsafes in place. I think they’re just angry because your name is tied to it.”

“I’m not a Spectre anymore.”

 

**********

The second time Shepard awoke, it was to the smell of bacon. Honest to God bacon, not that space-ready, dehydrated-rehydrated crap Gardner served. 

Outside the window, dawn reflected off the ice and snow making everything pink. Shepard rolled and sat upright. It was not an easy feat in that squashy turian bed. 

Shepard yawned as she struggled into her jumpsuit and padded towards the bacon smell. 

Lorik sat in an airy room at a table covered in food trays. When Shepard spotted Lorik, she braced herself for another conversation. 

He shut down his omnitool and glanced up as she approached. “Ah, Shepard. I trust you slept well, if too briefly.”

Shepard stared at him for a moment, uncertain. 

He smiled placidly in return. 

"I slept well enough." She relaxed and gestured to the bacon. “Where'd you get that from?”

“The hotel kitchen provides confections to suit most palettes. With the way humans are infiltrating every world, human fare was only a matter of time.”

“Is the rest of them for you?”

“Not all of them.” Lorik lifted the lid to one of the other trays. There was a plate of quiche. “The bacon seemed the most pungent and likely to rouse you.” He lifted the lid to another tray, and there was a small platter of fruit. 

Shepard gawked. “What’s all this for?”

“I’m afraid I must get to my office in the next—.“ He glanced at his omnitool. “Thirty minutes. I didn’t want to throw you out on your ear. You’re welcome to stay and dine. I simply don’t want to seem rude.”

“Throw me out on my ear? Really?”

“The expression provides a tangible imagery, don’t you think?” Lorik’s mandibles flared.

Shepard smirked as she picked up a wedge of orange. Vitamin C tablets were all well and good, but on some days, fresh fruit was worth more than all the upgrades in her armour.

They ate in a surprisingly companionable silence. Shepard's thoughts were whirring of course. What to do when she confronted Lawson about the researchers, what But his steady, welcoming presence calmed the maelstrom.

Lorik skimmed through his datapad, though she didn't feel like he was ignoring her as he worked his way through a bowl of stewed meat. 

After half an hour his omnitool chimed, and he rose to his feet while delicately dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “I’m afraid I must be going. It was an honour to spend the night with you, Shepard.”

Honour? It was just sex. Shepard rubbed the back of her head.  “Yeah, it was fun.”

Lorik smiled, and she followed him back to the door.

He shrugged on his coat. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“I need to get back to the ship. Duty calls. But thanks for the offer.” She stretched, feeling loose-limbed and more at peace than she had when she fled the SR-2 the night before. 

“I understand.”  He hesitated at the door before opening it.

Shepard arched a brow at him.

“Shepard, you’ve granted an old turian a satisfying experience….”

“Just satisfying?” Shepard clutched her chest in mock affront.

Lorik laughed and amended, “A delightful experience.”

Shepard waited for him to continue. “But?”

“May I, perhaps make one more request of you?”

“Right now? Don’t you have to work?”

“It will not take long.”

“What is it?”

Lorik plucked at the hem of his coat. “I have seen humans pressing mouths together during intimacy.”

“Kissing?”

“Yes.”

Shepard huffed a laugh and reached out to him. “C’mere.”

He resisted. "It is not a thing done among turians. It is, in fact, slightly taboo."

"Okay."

"I just wanted to be sure you were clear."

"Clear that you're a dirty old man?"

He laughed nervously. 

"C'mere"

When their mouths met, she felt his purr vibrating through her lips, his breath over her cheekbone. She pulled away and smiled. Lorik looked dazed: slack mandibles and wide-eyes.

“Good?”

“Yes. But.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve seen it done with tongues as well.”

Shepard bit her lips but just came out and asked, “I don’t have to worry about those teeth do it?”

“They’re not as sharp as they look. I’d cut my own tongue otherwise.” He gave her a crooked smile.  

Shepard nodded and pressed her lips to Lorik’s mouth plates again. She traced her tongue in the cleft and Lorik’s jaw fell slack. Shepard stepped closer and pushed her tongue inside. Despite herself, she tested his teeth first. Lorik was right. While she certainly didn’t want him to bite her, the teeth weren’t like a row of knives. Pointed, but not overly sharp.

Lorik shuddered and pulled her closer to him when their tongues touched. That low rumbling from the previous night was back. Shepard pushed him away gently. It was heady, this power. Even if it was power to control another person's reactions. 

“That,” he said with a sigh. “Is extremely taboo.”

"I thought you just said 'slightly' taboo."

He smiled and kissed her again. He mimicked her tongue’s movements, and they found a rhythm. Eventually, it was Lorik who pulled away. 

“Thank you, Shepard,” he said softly.

“Always a pleasure,” she said attempting to mimic his voice.

He chuckled. It was a deep, throaty, two-toned thing that made Shepard wonder if she could bag a turian again. He stroked over the fuzz of her hair and bid her goodbye.

“The apartment will lock up after you’ve left. I’ve preset the security system.” 

“That’s… very generous.”

“As I said, I don’t want you to feel forced out.” He finished tightening one of the other straps of his coat and said, “Best of luck with your endeavour with Cerberus. While I’m sure you know what’s best, I hope you’ll end business with them soon.”

“So do I,” Shepard replied honestly.

Lorik flared a mandible, and he was gone. She caught a glimpse of his body guard in the hallway before he too disappeared.  

She did not stay in his apartment for long. 

 

**********

 

When Shepard went back to the SR-2 Joker smirked at her.

“Have a good night, Commander?”

“You have no idea,” Shepard crooned. She knew she didn’t look rumpled; Joker was just a dick.

He blanched.

 _Didn’t like that, did you, Officer?_ Shepard winked.

Joker coughed and became very intent on his controls.

“We’re heading to Illium next," she said. "Take us out.”

“Aye Aye, Commander,” Joker said, hurrying to do something, anything.

Yeoman Chambers waved Shepard down as she passed by through CIC. “Commander, Garrus would like a word with you.”

“Oh? What about?”

“He didn’t say.” She hesitated. “He read an extranet message and got a real fire in his eyes.”

Shepard frowned. “I’ll catch up with him.”

“Very good, Commander.”

Based on Lorik’s sniffing, sense of smell was quite likely a big deal for turians. She took a long, hot shower instead of going straight to Garrus. Besides, showering after a fun evening was always better than cataloguing injuries under the spray.

She smiled as the ship hummed around her. In a few hours, they'd leave the Pax system for the Horsehead Nebula Relay.  It would be a pin-ball course of mass relays, clusters and systems until they reached the Tesale Relay and arrived at Illium. She had an asari and a drell to recruit. 

She didn't agree with everything Lorik said. She didn't want to go to the Council. Not under Cerberus colours. But she _would_ do the job in front of her: recruit and train a ground team to take on the Collectors. She was not Cerberus' errand girl. 

Shepard strolled into the Main Battery to find Garrus pacing back and forth. Her first thought was, ‘how long has he been doing that?’ Her second thought was Chambers wasn’t kidding about the fire in his eyes. She damn-near flinched under Garrus gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Shepard asked from the door. Her good mood had evaporated in the face of Garrus’ distress.  

“Shepard,” he said. His chest plate was rising and falling like he’d been in combat. 

“What’s wrong?” she repeated as she strode into the Battery. 

The door hissed shut behind her, and she hesitated. The walls had ears after all. This might not be the best place for a heart-to-heart. 

"Perhaps," she said. "We could pay Mordin a visit."

That drew Garrus up short, and he frowned at her. Then he huffed mirthlessly and pointed at the pile of electronics on his console. She got a closer look and glanced at him questioningly. 

"All present and accounted for. Why Mordin gave the expensive ones back to Lawson is beyond me."

He opened his mouth to say more, but he faltered. He inhaled deeply. His brow plates slowly rose and his mandibles fell slack. The effect was rather comical as he blinked owlishly at her. Shepard’s cheeks ignited anyway.  That answered any questions about how good a turian’s nose was.

She held his gaze and said very carefully, “Chambers said you wanted to see me?”

He shook his head, gave her a funny look and said somberly, “Yes.” 

She waited.

“I need to go to the Citadel.”

It was Shepard’s turn for stunned silence. She slumped heavily on a crate. So this was happening. 

“What for?” she asked. 

Garrus brought his fingers up to his visor’s frame. “I understand if you don’t want to go there personally. If you drop me off, I can sort this out on my own.”

Shepard held up a hand. “Out of the question. You need help; I’ll give you everything I’ve got, and we’ll resolve it quickly.”

“So I can get back to this mission?” he asked, and it was the first time Shepard had ever heard him sound bitter. It cut.

“No. I’ll go with you to the Citadel because you’re my friend.” _The only one I've got_ , she thought.  

That stopped his fidgeting, and he stared at her for a beat. Shepard knew she looked hurt, and she didn’t care. She preferred him at her back, but this wasn’t a Council mission. If he was through with Cerberus, he had every right to leave. God knew that she wanted to some days.

“I never told you about my time on Omega, did I?”

“No. But I figured you’d tell me when you’re ready,” she replied evenly. She didn't want to know about how she'd failed him. But she'd listen if he needed an ear. 

Garrus nodded and touched his visor again. “Will you tell me about Alchera first?”

That surprised Shepard. “Garrus, there isn’t much to tell. The Collectors attacked the ship; I got spaced, and my respiration system failed.”

He stared at her for some time, expecting her to go into those details.

She shook her head with a mirthless chuckle. “Garrus, nothing is more trauma-inducing that dying. I promise you. Please don’t make me rehash it.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and looked at him. Looked at him and let him see the night sweats, her nights reliving tthe blind panic as her air hissed out into the vacuum of space. The cold. Dying utterly, utterly alone. 

He never used to be so good at reading human expressions but apparently his time on Omega had fixed that. He broke her gaze, and she shored herself back up. 

“You don’t have to tell me about Omega if you don’t want to,” she said. “I’d like to hear it if you want to share, but I’m not going to force the issue.”

He flinched, and she felt a little guilty until he pressed on. “But you must have something to say about the attack.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have anything else to say about Alchera, Garrus. I really don’t. I don’t remember the time in between. I woke up in pain once or twice, right before the final wake up call. But that’s it. My death took less than twenty minutes. No longer than it would take to eat a sandwich. It’s not that special in the grand scheme of things other than I got to live to tell the tale…sort of.”

Garrus took another long inhale. He grimaced, gave her that funny look and ploughed on. "You humans have a saying, ‘An eye for an eye.’” He faltered. “I know that... payback’s never been your thing. So I’ll understand if you don't want to help…”

“But I want to.”

“You don’t know what I’m asking you yet.”

“I want to help _you_.”

Garrus stared at his feet for some time. Then he began, “I had a crew. On Omega.”

He told her about his time on Omega. She disagreed with some of the things he'd done. Other things made her chest warm with pride.

He told her about Sidonis and ice trickled down her spine and lodged in her gut and made her hands ball into fists. As Garrus voice washed over her, she realized that she was going to the Citadel. She couldn’t not. With Garrus’ face still lurid with barely healed scar tissue. Not with that damned bandage sealing his skull off. Fuck Lawson and fuck The Illusive Man. Garrus needed her. She'd like to think she'd help any of her ground crew if they asked her. 

Right. She jumped to her feet. “I’ll tell Joker to change course for the Citadel."

“Now?”

"You’ll lose the trail if you don’t.” Shepard walked to the door, her mind already whizzing with calculations. They’d need to fuel up at least three times to get all the way to the heart of Council space. Hopefully, Joker wasn’t too close to the relay. If they stopped at the depot beforehand maybe they could— 

“Thank you, Shepard.”

“It’s nothing,” she said waving him off. She was trying to hold a lot of numbers in her mind. 

“I know you’re avoiding Anderson.”

The numbers scattered like a dropped stack of cards. Shepard sighed, and her shoulders sagged.

Garrus spoke from far closer than she expected. “I’m not just saying that to... to be a bastard. I just, I appreciate that you’re willing to do this with me, Shepard. I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

Shepard turned. Garrus was very close.

She grinned. “Anything for you, Vakarian.”

Garrus’ nostrils flared slightly, and he took in a breath to speak— she could hear his mandibles click.

Something in the ship’s noise made her pause. “Shit, Joker’s gonna hit the relay soon. Gotta run.” She slapped the door control. “I’ll update you on our ETA.”

She jogged out of the Main Battery and into the elevator. She tapped her legs in irritation as the elevator crawled down the decks.

Shepard didn’t want to think about the look in Garrus’ eyes when he talked about Sidonis. It was the kind of look that would kill. More likely Garrus would forego a 'look' and just use a gun. Technically, if someone wasn’t shooting at you, shooting them was murder. Shit. She had a few days before they reached the Citadel to make up her mind. She knew she’d help Garrus and that was as far as she got in her thinking. Perhaps they could arrest Sidonis. Either way, he couldn't be allowed to crawl away. 

She strode swiftly through the CIC. Running COs tended to put the crew on edge.

“Joker, how close are we to the relay?” she asked once in the cockpit. 

Joker looked at her askance before answering, “We’re just about to approach—“

“We’re changing destination. We’re going to the Citadel.”

 Joker did some complicated button pushing and switch flicking. Shepard stared out at the growing bulk of the mass relay as he swore colourfully.

And after she helped Garrus with justice, she’d help the Colonists who were being stolen. She would focus on the reason why she’d been brought back.

 _That was the crux of it_ , Shepard thought as she watched the glittering space spin outside.

_No matter how she writhed like a skewered fish, no matter how she wailed protests and stomped her feet about Cerberus’ puppet strings, colonists were dying, and she was the one charged to help. She was the one to get this done._

Joker had swung the SR-2 around to change the angle of approach, and they were coming back for a final pass. 

_The time was now; she could not wait any longer._

The relay glowed like a blue-white sun as the Normandy drew nearer.  _  
_

_No more errands for Cerberus_.

Arcs of dark energy crackled from the machinery as it spun.

_Not everyone had the luxury of being brought back to life; Shepard was damn well going to use it to do some good for a change._

A bolt of energy cradled the Normandy for a moment before the relay shot the ship into interstellar space. 

[End]

 


End file.
